


Hanahaki

by Apollos_Last_Prophet



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Flower with meanings, Hanahaki Disease, Homophobia, Other, Suicide, hanahaki, lgbtqa+
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 22:11:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15128864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apollos_Last_Prophet/pseuds/Apollos_Last_Prophet
Summary: Daffodils mean unrequited love,Heliotropes are care,When you’re hopeful have some daisies,And when you long, white clovers pair.Rejection is yellow carnations,Cyclamen, goodbye,Forget-Me-Nots, it’s in the name,And Rhododendrons, when you need to hide.Last of all, most crushing still,Blue roses for the love,That never will be filled.





	Hanahaki

**Author's Note:**

> I’m so sorry for anyone who reads this. My friend commissioned me to write something angsty.
> 
> Suicide, homophobia

“Nobody loves me,” you laugh, a joking lightness to your tone,  
And I chuckle with you,  
Because it covers the cough  
That adds the smell of Daffodil to my lips,  
As the sunny pedals choke my throat.

“No one cares,” you cry, bundled up in my arms,  
As you do when you feel particularly down.  
I say nothing as I wipe the tears from your face,  
Because Heliotrope flowers are blooming in my chest,  
And I can’t breathe, but the gasps you make as you sob  
Cover my own labored inhales.

“I love him,” you state, as we watch from the bleachers.  
You never liked sports, but you stayed for him.  
I hum, but a mountain of white Clovers are building behind my cheeks  
So when you turn your back again, I spit them out.  
The sweet smell tastes bitter on my tongue.  
What a shame, I think, when I see the small flowers crumbled in my palm.

“We’re done,” you scream, grabbing your backpack and stomping out the door,  
Your now-ex boyfriend hissing a bitter farewell.  
I hate the feeling swelling in my chest,  
Because it invites Daisies,  
That grow up my trachea,  
I go to the bathroom and vomit petals one by one  
Like a game of she-loves-me  
But I know she loves me not.

“You’re so silly,” you say, as we walk home side by side,  
And I name every flower we spot on our way.  
You’ll never know why I can name so many  
And I’ll never tell you.  
Peonies tickle the back of my windpipe,  
And my ears turn red,  
As you laugh.

“That’s disgusting,” you sneer, as we walk past a couple one day.  
They look really in love, I think.  
When we pass, the boys laugh, happy in each other's arms.  
The repulsion is clear on your face, like a storm brewing on the horizon.  
I try to ignore the taste of Rhododendron.

“They’re beautiful,” you awe, at the bouquet I hand you.  
You were the star of the play, after all.  
I can bought some from a store, before coming,  
But I couldn’t stand giving them to you,  
Because you deserve better.  
So I left during intermission,  
And missed some of Act lll,  
As I puked golden carnations in the hallway.  
You loved them. 

“I love you,” I admit, after my sixteenth birthday,  
As I offer you a handful of Chrysanthemums.  
And like a breeze, you leave. That’s fair, I think.  
The red petals are crushed into the carpet in your wake.

From the shelf in my closet, I need a stool to pull down  
A bottle of weed killer.  
I had saved up for it, by selling my heart at school.  
I felt it had only been fair,  
That forgotten anniversary gifts and courage before dates,  
That love  
Would pay for it.  
My fingers gloss over the bold writing on the front.

Warning  
Poisonous  
Do not ingest

With my family asleep, I creep down to the kitchen,  
And grab a wine glass from the cabinet.  
Back in my room, I write this note with shaking hands,  
As I fill up the cup  
And I drink.

You’ll find me in the morning.  
My parents long gone at work,  
You’ll stomp up my steps.  
Despite last night, you’d come to walk with me,  
Because you’re a creature of habit,  
And you think that if you ignore a problem,  
It will go away.  
I think that was why  
We got along so well.

You’ll be raving by the time you reach my room,  
Spitting mad,  
You’d open my door, and find me.  
Maybe you’ll scream,  
Maybe you’ll cry,  
Or laugh, because you told me I’d be going to Hell last night,

But you’ll stop, limbs heavy,  
Because you’ll see  
That from my mouth, buried between withering  
Forget-me-nots and Cyclamen,  
Is a full blue Rose.  
And maybe now, you’ll start to sob, because  
I always knew they were  
Your favorite.

**Author's Note:**

> Cri


End file.
